


Save a prayer

by gothikmaus



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, Established Relationship, Illustrations, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothikmaus/pseuds/gothikmaus
Summary: Crowley had only wanted to see Aziraphale wearing a collar. He hadn't expected the angel to agree so enthusiastically. Or to build a whole bloody scenario around it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 114





	Save a prayer

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I don't write anything explicit for years, and then my brain comes up with this. And, because I've had this image stuck in my mind for a while, I drew a small illustration as well.

The thought occurred to him so suddenly and unexpectedly he almost tripped on his own feet. They were walking back to the bookshop after having dinner at a new Italian restaurant Aziraphale had spotted a few days earlier (" _They're supposed to have the best Brunello di Montalcino in town!_ " the angel had beamed and, really, how could he say no to that?), when they passed in front of what looked like some sort of underground club. A few people were queueing outside, all wearing an assortment of leather, fishnet and velvet, mostly black.

Crowley smiled. Apparently goth was back in style again. Or maybe it had never really gone away, you just needed to know where to look for.

And then he saw him. Bleach-blond hair and baby-faced, head bent down as he typed away swiftly on his mobile. He sighed and removed his scarf, revealing a black leather collar around his neck. As he glanced up, his sky-blue eyes looked straight at Crowley.

The demon almost collapsed face-first on the pavement as he imagined Aziraphale on his knees, pink lips parted and blue eyes huge as he looked up at him, a collar around his neck.

"Are you all right?" the angel in question asked, sounding concerned.

"Ye-Yes. I'm good. Just peachy," Crowley replied in a strangled voice.

Aziraphale frowned but didn't press the matter. Not until a week later, at least.

"All right, out with it," the angel demanded, putting his empty wine glass back on the rickety coffee table in the back of the bookshop.

The thought had been gnawing at Crowley's mind for days. He had done his best to ignore it, hoping Aziraphale wouldn't notice the way he would sometimes stare at his neck, going slightly glazed-eyed as he imagined supple black leather wrapped around the angel's smooth, pale throat, but apparently Aziraphale knew him far too well. He still tried to play dumb.

"Out with what?"

Aziraphale gave him his trademark 'Do you really think I'm that stupid?' look. Oh, well, it had been worth a shot.

"It's nothing, really. Forget about it."

"It's not 'nothing', you've been acting funny for days. Well, funnier than usual, anyway."

"Oi."

"Crowley."

He really had no way out of it, had he? Might as well get it over and done with.

"Right. Well, I had this... thought, the other day. It's just a silly idea, really, something that popped into my mind out of nowhere, feel free to say no if... How do you feel about collars?"

Aziraphale blinked.

"Collars?"

"You know, those things you place around your neck? Usually made of leather?"

"Oh, you mean like a dog collar?"

"Um. Yes?"

"I don't have any specific feelings about them. Why?"

Crowley could feel heat rising up to his face. Bloody human body with its bloody human reactions.

"The other night, when we were walking back from that Italian place, I saw this kid who kinda looked a bit like you and he was wearing a collar and wouldyouwearoneforme?"

Aziraphale blinked again.

"You want me to wear a dog collar around my neck?"

"Listen, I told you it was a silly idea, let's just forget all about-"

"No, Crowley, this is obviously important for you. I'm just trying to understand... Oh. _Oh_."

Crowley would have gladly melt into the sofa and disappeared from existence if he thought that would have saved him from the unbearable embarrassment he was feeling at the moment.

"I did say you should feel free to say no if-"

"Who's saying no?"

Crowley whipped his head up so quickly he might have snapped his neck. Aziraphale had slid towards him and was now sitting very close.

"Tell me, do you have a specific setting in mind?"

Crowley didn't. He didn't have much more than the image that had been haunting his brain for weeks: the angel on his knees, wearing a collar and looking up at him. That thought alone had been enough to drive him to utter distraction, he hadn't needed to add further details.

He shook his head.

"Just. You? Kneeling in front of me?"

"Mmh. So you want me to wear a collar and kneel in front of you..." Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley's thigh and leaned forward. "Do I look up pleadingly at you, asking for mercy? Are my hands bound together, perhaps?"

Crowley was going to spontaneously combust.

"If... If you liked," he squeaked.

"Oh, this is going to be lovely!" Aziraphale exclaimed sitting up straight and clapping his hands together. "You know, I've had this little fantasy I've wanted to try out, but I didn't know if you were into that sort of things and I was too embarrassed to ask." He gave him a quick side glance. "But now I think it may work."

Crowley could feel his heart beat in his throat.

"W-What kind of fantasy?"

The demon listened in stunned silence as Aziraphale unravelled what must have been on his mind for quite some time, judging by the level of details he was going into. And here he thought the angel might be appalled at the idea of a demon wanting to put a collar around his neck.

By the time Aziraphale was done, they were both flushed and slightly out of breath.

"Would that be... acceptable?" the angel asked, sounding a little unsure all of a sudden.

Crowley wanted to laugh. 'Acceptable' was the understatement of the last six millennia.

"Yep, perfectly acceptable."

Aziraphale's smile could've lit up the whole of Greater London. "Oh, I'm so relieved. So, shall we?"

"What, now? Here?"

Aziraphale looked around.

"You're right, this is not the most appropriate setting. Shall we go to your place?"

Crowley was too dazed to do anything but nod. As they were about to leave, Aziraphale put a hand on his shoulder. That small touch was enough to send a shiver down the demon's back.

"Wait. Maybe we should establish a safe word?"

"A safe word?"

"I've read humans use a 'safe word' when they indulge in this kind of activities."

Crowley gaped at him. That was the evening of never-ending surprises, apparently.

"You've read... Fuck, angel, what the hell have you been reading?"

Aziraphale only fluttered his eyelashes.

"Right, okay, safe word. What would that be?"

"Tiramisu?"

Crowley snorted. "Really?"

"It's delicious," Aziraphale replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Crowley wasn't sure he would reach the end of the night without discorporating.

*****

A snap of his fingers and the room was flooded in light. The air caught in Crowley's throat at the sight before him: Aziraphale was kneeling on the floor, squinting against the sudden brightness. Around him, a circle of crimson symbols stood out in stark contrast against the white marble. His wrists were tied together with a rope and he was wearing a black collar around his neck, a single metal hoop attached to the front of it.

"Hello, angel," Crowley eventually said, his voice sounding not quite steady. He took a step forward and Aziraphale got to his feet.

"I wouldn't do that," he added as the angel backed away and one of his feet drew closer to the circle. As soon as the heel of his shoe brushed against one of the red symbols, a shock ran through him. Aziraphale gasped and jerked forward.

"Told you so."

"What do you want, demon?"

"So rude, don't they teach manners in Heaven these days?"

"You're a demon, I don't have to be polite to you."

"Oh, but things will run so much more smoothly if you are."

"What things?"

Crowley grinned and slowly circled him, Aziraphale turning with him and never letting him out of his sight.

"Haven't you wondered why you can't just untie your hands and miracle your way out of here?"

Aziraphale only glared at him.

"You have, haven't you? It's all because of that nifty little collar around your neck," Crowley explained, nodding towards the object in question. "It looks harmless enough, but it was forged in the depths of Hell and does one very useful thing: it blocks all kinds of angelic power."

Crowley took another step towards Aziraphale, then another. He crossed the circle of runes and the angel once again tried to step back, but the red symbols drawn on the floor sent another sharp shock through him, stopping him again.

"Why the demonic shield then?"

"You might not be able to do miracles, be you can still use your legs. I wouldn't want you to run away from under my nose just when things are getting interesting."

Now that he was standing closer, Crowley could see the metal ring attached to the front of the collar was actually a silver snake biting its tail. Satan almighty, the angel really had gone all out.

Aziraphale took a step to his right, trying to keep as much distance as he could between them, but there wasn't much room.

"So what's the plan? Are you handing me over to your boss hoping you'll get a promotion?"

Crowley's grin widened. He ran his tongue over his lower lip.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I wouldn't want to share such a sweet morsel with anyone."

He put his index finger under Aziraphale chin. The angel moved his face away.

"You... You can't possibly..."

"I can't what? Have lustful thoughts? I'm a demon, that's what I do. Besides, I've always wanted to defile an angel, especially one who's always so prim and proper. What do you say, Principality? Would you like that? Being corrupted by a demon?"

Crowley took another step forward and Aziraphale found himself trapped between him and the invisible shield crackling with demonic energy behind his back.

"I bet you would. I've been watching you for a while, angel, I've noticed how much you enjoy human food: the sounds you make when you eat are positively sinful, you could lead even a saint to stray from God's path. I'm sure you enjoy other... earthly pleasures too."

"That's... blasphemy. I am an angel of the Lord, I do no such things."

"Really?" Crowley asked and reached down. Aziraphale gasped as the demon cupped his crotch. "Could've fooled me. Aren't angels supposed to be sexless?"

"That's... That's not..."

"Don't worry, love, your little secret's safe with me," Crowley murmured in his ear. "Besides, if anyone finds out, you can always say you couldn't help it: bound, with a cursed collar around your neck, and trapped within a demonic circle, how could you ever escape from the evil demon's clutches?"

"There will be... paperwork," Aziraphale objected feebly.

"I'll be sure to make it worth it, then."

Crowley pulled back just enough to look at him. The angel's cheeks were bright pink, his breathing already short and laboured.

"You're shivering, sweetheart. Is it fear? Or anticipation?" he asked, looking at him over the rim of his sunglasses. His eyes had gone fully reptilian, brilliant yellow filling them completely and interrupted only by the pure black of his slitted pupils.

He put a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder and pushed down. The angel made a futile attempt at resisting, but as Crowley pressed harder, he gave in. As soon as his knees hit the marble floor, he looked up.

Crowley felt his heart do something funny in his chest. Aziraphale was kneeling in front of him, hands bound together, arms bent and pressed against his chest as if in prayer, looking up at him with huge blue eyes and parted lips. And a fucking collar around his neck.

He felt his knees threaten to give out and his grip on Aziraphale's shoulder grew tighter. The angel gave him the tiniest knowing smirk, eyes all but twinkling up at him.

'Bastard,' Crowley thought. He'd never imagined Aziraphale would be so bloody good at this. Then again, he shouldn't be too surprised, the angel had always enjoyed playing damsel in distress (The demon was still convinced that little stint in the Bastille had just been an excuse to have lunch together in Paris).

"Show me what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours, Principality," Crowley said as he unzipped his trousers.

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide and he glanced down.

"I... I can't," he stammered.

"Oh, I'm sure you can."

He placed a hand on the back of the angel's head and pulled him closer. Aziraphale looked up again and licked his lips, eyes fixed on the demon's as he leaned in.

Crowley forced himself to stand very still as the angel's warm, moist lips barely grazed him. He ran them slowly along his length, taking his time exploring every inch of skin and applying the minimum amount of pressure. Just as Crowley was about to tighten his grip on the blond hair and yank him forward, the angel opened his mouth and took him in.

A garbled sound left Crowley's throat, part groan, part whine, part curse in some ancient, forgotten language.

"Fuck, you're good at this," he managed to say. "You can't tell me this is the first time."

Aziraphale moaned something in response, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure up Crowley's spine.

"I'm so tempted to just come down your throat. But I have other plans for tonight."

The angel pulled back slowly, swirled his tongue around the head of the demon's cock, and took him between his lips again, sliding all the way down to the base.

"Then again," Crowley gasped, voice high-pitched and unsteady. "There's nothing stopping me from doing both, is there?"

He buried both hands in Aziraphale's soft, curly hair and snapped his hips forward, movements getting faster and less coordinated in a matter of seconds. For a brief moment, he felt embarrassed by how quickly he was already losing control, but he was too busy enjoying the angel's mouth to dwell on the thought.

Aziraphale didn't seem to mind the somewhat rough pace, mouth stretched open and eyes closed as he met every thrust eagerly.

"Look at you," Crowley panted. "On your knees, sucking a demon off. What would the other angels say?"

Aziraphale's eyes fluttered opened and he gazed up at him. Crowley almost choked as their eyes met and could only mutter a few broken syllables before he was coming down the angel's throat.

Once the demon was done, Aziraphale pulled back and let his softening cock slip from his mouth. Crowley's knees finally gave up supporting his weight and he collapsed on the floor in front of the angel.

"You okay?" he asked, sounding breathless.

Aziraphale nodded.

"Yes. You?"

A small sound left the demon's throat as he pressed his forehead against Aziraphale's.

"Wanna go on?"

The angel nodded again.

"Right."

Crowley took a deep breath and slowly stood up. He reached out and cupped the side of Aziraphale's face, smiling down at him.

"I knew you'd be bloody good at this."

Aziraphale was holding his gaze, face flushed and eyes bright.

"Will you let me go now?"

"Oh, no, my pretty angel, I'm not done with you yet. I did say I had plans for tonight, didn't I?"

He snapped his fingers and the circle of symbols painted around them flared up and expanded. Once it was big enough, a bed slowly emerged from the floor under their knees, big and soft and with sheets as black as night.

One of Aziraphale's eyebrows twitched.

"Classy," he muttered, briefly breaking character before continuing in a pleading tone. "Please. Didn't you humiliate me enough?"

"Oh, don't worry. I did promise I'd make it worth it for you, and I always keep my promises."

"You're a demon! You kidnapped me and used me for your own twisted pleasure! How am I supposed to believe a word you say?"

Crowley grinned.

"You don't need to believe my words. My actions will speak louder."

He grabbed Aziraphale around his waist and flipped him over, causing a surprised, outraged squeak. Another snap of his fingers and the angel's clothes disappeared, leaving him completely naked.

"Yes, that's better."

He ran his hands slowly down Aziraphale's sides, the shiver running through him impossible to miss.

"Such smooth, perfect skin, just like a cherub in a Renaissance painting. Tell me, angel, have you ever posed for one of those artists? Draped languidly over a sofa, a veil barely hiding your most intimate bits..."

"S-Stop being blasphemous."

"I'm a demon, sweetheart: being blasphemous is in my job description."

Before Aziraphale could say anything else, Crowley grabbed his buttocks and parted them, leaving him completely exposed. The angel only had a second to process what was happening, before Crowley leaned in and licked.

"Fuck!"

"Yes, angel, let me hear you swear," the demon said, so close Aziraphale could feel his hot breath against his skin. "Call the name of the Lord in vain."

"You f-foul fiend!" Aziraphale stuttered as Crowley went back to flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot.

He couldn't stay still, hips rubbing restlessly against the sheets as Crowley licked and prodded and bit down. His erection was trapped between his belly and the bed, and the friction just wasn't enough. He whined loudly as he felt a finger slip inside, quickly followed by the tip of that sinfully talented tongue.

"P-Please..."

"Please what?" the demon asked, slowly sliding his finger in and out. "Do you want me to stop?"

Aziraphale's words stuck in his throat as Crowley added a second finger.

"Well?"

"Don't..."

"Don't do this?" Crowley kept moving his fingers, twisting and bending them, making Aziraphale sob. "Or don't stop?"

"Just... Let me..."

The demon let his other hand slide towards the angel's belly. He found his erect cock and squeezed gently, making Aziraphale gasp.

"Oh, does the holy Principality want to come?"

"Please."

"Mmh. Since you beg so nicely."

He stroked him a few times, keeping his movements slow and soft, then moved his hand away.

"No!"

"Don't worry, you will come. Eventually."

Crowley went back to tormenting him with his fingers and tongue, until Aziraphale was sure he was about to melt into the mattress. When the demon finally withdrew his fingers, Aziraphale didn't know if he should thank him or smite him.

Crowley got up on his knees and moved closer, pressing himself against the angel. Aziraphale could feel denim rub against the back of his thighs, the fringe of the demon’s silver scarf tickling his lower back. He suddenly realised he was completely naked while Crowley was still fully dressed, and the thought sent a new wave of arousal through him.

"Are you ready to be desecrated by a demon?" Crowley murmured against his ear.

"Just do it."

"As you wish."

Crowley pushed inside, movements measured and painstakingly slow, and Aziraphale wanted to sob.

"What is it, Principality? Did you think I was going to give you a good, hard pounding? Were you expecting this to be over quickly? I'm afraid you'll have to suffer a little bit longer."

Crowley’s thrusts were slow and languid, his hands firm on Aziraphale’s hips. The angel’s fingers twitched against the black sheets, bound hands moving awkwardly towards his groin.

The demon stopped.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?"

He hooked two fingers into the back on the collar and pulled. Aziraphale gasped for air at the increased pressure against his throat and let himself be pulled up, until he was leaning back against the demon’s chest.

"You’ll come when I tell you to. Understood?"

Aziraphale nodded.

"Good angel."

Crowley let his fingers slide down the angel’s side and went back to pushing lazily in and out of him.

Aziraphale was floating in a haze of pleasure and frustration, torn between the need to come and the desire to draw things out as much as he could. He brought his hands to his mouth, trying to smother the moans he couldn’t quite suppress. The need was consuming him.

"Let me hear you, angel. Let me hear what an angel of the Lord overcome by Lust sounds like."

Aziraphale gasped and fell forward, clutching the sheets and pressing his forehead against the pillow.

"Please, Cro- Please. I... I need..."

Crowley’s grip on his hips grew tighter, his thrusts more erratic.

"Tell me you’re mine, angel. Tell me you’re mine, and I’ll let you come."

Aziraphale was wheezing, barely able to speak.

"I’m yours."

Crowley’s fingers slipped on Aziraphale’s sweaty skin and he tightened his grip even more. The angel spared a fleeting thought for the bruises that would no doubt appear on his hips and knew he would not miracle them away.

"Yes, yes, you’re mine. Angel, my angel..."

Crowley was pounding into him now, all pretence and self-control finally abandoned. One of his hands closed around Aziraphale’s cock and the angel gasped.

"Come, angel. Come while a demon is fucking you."

It took only a handful of strokes for Aziraphale to reach orgasm, a wonderful, blissful orgasm that left him panting and boneless in Crowley’s hands, as the demon thrust a few more times and came, collapsing on top of him.

As they slowly regained their breath, Crowley slid off Aziraphale to lie on his side next to him. The angel snuggled closer, back against the demon’s chest and a beatific smile on his face.

"Are you... Uh. Was that what you had in mind?" Crowley asked after a while.

Aziraphale nodded.

"Thank you, Crowley. It was even better than I’d imagined."

"Good. Uh. Good."

"Did you enjoy it?"

Had he enjoyed it? Satan almighty.

"It was bloody amazing, angel."

"Oh, I’m so glad, dear. I can’t wait to try out all the other fantasies I have."

Crowley almost choked. The angel would be the death of him.


End file.
